Sober Mercies by Heather Harpham Kopp

Author:Heather Harpham Kopp
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FaithWords
Published: 2013-05-07T00:00:00+00:00

Nicole and I had a lot in common. I didn’t want to set my biological father on fire. It was too late for that, anyway—he’d been cremated. But there was a time when I would have gladly done my stepdad that favor, lit his socks on fire myself.

As I mentioned earlier, I was eight when my mother married my “bring me a beer” stepdad.

Even though Jon wooed us kids—bringing us gifts like Pop-Tarts, a sled, and chocolate milk—I resented him from the get-go. After he and my mother married, I hated him with a raw, cold fierceness that defied explanation. He gave me the shivers. He repulsed me. Now and then, he’d thump my head with his big thumb or he’d box my ears, or try to spank me.

As I got older, our conflicts escalated, often turning into violent brawls, since I always fought back. Once, after I’d had my appendix out, Jon threw me down a flight of stairs, reopening the surgical wound. I’m sure it hurt plenty, but what I remember most is feeling gratified. I didn’t mind getting hurt if it made him look like a monster.

While these altercations unfolded in front of my mother, she usually cried and yelled and got hysterical. But she never tried to intervene. Later, she’d let me know that I was mostly to blame. “You egg him on!” she’d cry. “You egg him on, Heather!”

My mother was wrong to say this. And she was wrong to tolerate the kind of sporadic physical abuse I and my siblings occasionally suffered at my stepdad’s hands.

But here’s the rotten truth: I did egg him on. I knew exactly how, and to me the satisfaction was worth the risk.

When I was twelve, I decided that everyone hated me and I hated my stepfather and my whole life so much that it was time to die. So I went to my mother’s medicine cabinet and chose the bottle of pills that had a label warning, “Do not exceed one pill in twenty-four hours.” Perfect. I swallowed the whole bottle and then I lay down on my bed and waited to die.

And I waited. And I waited.

When nothing happened, I tried something else, too. I had heard that you could sniff hair spray to death. So I sprayed it a lot around the bathroom and tried to smell it and smell it until the can was empty. Then I lay down again on my bed and stared at the ceiling and waited to die. Again, nothing.

Sometime late that afternoon, while I was still on my bed and angrily waiting to die, my mother came home from work. A few minutes later she began to yell from her bathroom, “Who took all my hormone pills!?”

I don’t know who was more pissed, me or my mother.

She called her doctor and told him what happened and he told her that I’d be fine, but I might start my period if I hadn’t already.

For me, this was a possible bright spot. Maybe even something to live for.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.